On life and its vagaries

Lost souls

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Once I saw him being pummeled

By those proud of their wanton strength

There was no cry, not even a single moan

The face went blue- black with lumps all over…

I was too young to interfere

And bore those wounds in my soul

I still can’t think of the sad incident

Without squirming in helpless wrath

Then I saw him with some stray mongrels

Around him, (and they with cries of pleasure)

He had found peace among the mute

And seemed satisfied with his poor fare

Now I hear that he had died

In his sorry hole at the top of the hill

His canine friends with some snakes

Were on guard when they found his corpse


Written by Sam

December 2, 2009 at 6:27 pm

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